Revenge of the Mummy
by Samwise Baggins
Summary: On their way home from the Scorpion King Quest, Jonathan helps his family stumble onto yet another timeless quest. Thanks Jonathan!
1. No Rest for the Weary

Title: No Rest for the Weary

Author: Sam  
Series: Revenge of the Mummy: 01 / ?

Rating: R: Language, Violence, Sexual Content  
Summary: On the way home from the Scorpion King quest, Jonathan helps his family stumble onto yet another timeless quest. Thanks Jonathan!

Characters: Jonathan Carnahan; Rick, Evy, and Alex O'Connell; Izzy; Ardeth, Sahara, and Ibrahim Bay

Spoilers: Yeah, if you haven't seen the first two movies (or read the books), they'll be spoiled throughout. This includes a major spoiler in my _Author's Note_ below.

Category: Humor, Action/ Adventure

Disclaimer: _The Mummy_ is a trademark of Stephen Sommers, Max Allan Collins, and Universal Studios. I am in no way connected with these people, and I do not claim ownership to these characters, lands, or names. I have borrowed them to share a story... and most likely not a story Mr. Sommers would have written, had he had the time or no. I am making no money from this, and it is just for my entertainment, and that of free entertainment to a select group of friends. Thank You.

Distribution: Please ask first?

Setting: Egypt 1930's

Author's Note: The books and movies differ on a few points, most notably concerning whose gunshot saved Ardeth Bay from the warrior in the jungle in the sequel. Thus, for reference to that scene, I have chosen to go with the movie (Jonathan), rather than the book (Evy).

Second Note: Thank you, Merrianna, for your beta. Your suggestions on language changes were invaluable.

Feedback: Please? We love comments: samwisebagginsyahoo.co.uk or merriannadragonyahoo.com

* * *

Total blessed peace. One never appreciated the finer things in life unless threatened by angry gods and ancient horrors. He would never take peace and rest for granted again. With a pleased sigh, especially content that the covetous Izzy was so busy flying this strange contraption, Jonathan let his eyes drift happily closed, the extremely large diamond he'd recovered a rather uncomfortable pillow under his head.

He was beginning to drift off in the still-warm air of sunset over Egypt when a shift in the vehicle made him open his eyes once more. A suspicious frown crossing his lean features, Jonathan scooped the diamond into tired, bruised arms, and pushed clumsily to his unsteady feet, one arm wrapped over the slice on his abdomen. The man headed for the shadowy trio sitting closer to the center of the flying machine. His sister and her husband were awake, as the treasure seeker had suspected.

"I say, what is that man doing? This thing feels as if it were sinking." He let himself slip to the deck, wishing for the peace of only moments before especially as the dusk was bringing a swift coldness to the air at this altitude.

Rick, Jonathan's brother-in-law, merely gave an incomprehensible grunt. That did nothing to answer Jonathan's questions, however, as half the time a grunt was Rick's way of answering a question, no matter what the proper answer should be. The brunet frowned and turned to his sister, instead, knowing her to be the coherent one of the pair.

She answered in a way that was much more satisfactory. The woman stood and headed for the deckhouse on board. Well, Jonathan supposed it was called a deckhouse; he wasn't familiar enough with zeppelins to know the proper terminology after all. But, that was neither here nor there, and the man simply waited in curiosity and some annoyance for his sister to finish discussing things with that barbaric pilot... if pilot he could be called.

Evelyn hurried back to them with a frown. "Izzy is going to land the balloon. He says he did not quite have enough time to convert it to hot air and it can no longer sustain our combined weight." She sank to the deck, much more gracefully than her brother had done.

Finally, Rick pulled out of his daze to make a valuable contribution to the conversation; he frowned and glared towards the deckhouse. "We're in the middle of the desert. What's he think we're supposed to do? Walk the rest of the way back to Cairo?" The American tried to push himself to his feet, despite rather heavy injuries that were hardly properly tended, but his wife stopped him with a firm hand on his well-muscled arm, moving to tend him.

Jonathan sighed and pushed up instead, not waiting to be asked. He knew his sister too well to think he might be allowed to sit and wait for the turn out. She would want answers, and he was less injured than Rick, though not much by his way of thinking. After all, Rick had merely fought two immortals; Jonathan had hung upside down from aerial rigging while being lifted from the center of a tornado. That had to count for something, did it not?

The man wearily headed towards the deckhouse to confront the man who had tried to claim the large diamond earlier. He wasn't overly fond of the greedy treasure-seeker... perhaps because Izzy reminded him too much of himself. With a bright smile, however... one couldn't fault Jonathan's manners, after all... the Englishman popped his head round the corner and chirruped, "How soon before we can fly again, old chap? O'Connell's got a bit of a stiff leg, you know, and should really avoid tromping through the desert if at all possible."

The dark-skinned man shot an annoyed look at Jonathan, baring his gold-plated teeth. He pulled another lever and turned a dial or two before growling, "Can't fly again. Your asses weigh too much. There's a Bedouin camp down there. You figure things out..." He then shot another glare at Jonathan and growled out, "And payment for not dropping the lot of you over the side will be my half of that diamond." Apparently the euphoria of triumph had worn off and Izzy was in a nasty mood.

"Right." The word was drawn out as Jonathan backed from the small room. He shook his head and headed for the group, noting that his nephew, Alex, was once more awake. With a shrug, the man nonchalantly slipped to the deck and tried out a wide grin. "He says he'll set us down next to an encampment where we'll get help. Couldn't be cozier."

A grunt from Rick let the entire group know what he thought of Jonathan's translation efforts. That man knew Izzy better than anyone, and he knew Izzy wouldn't have been half so polite... or asinine... as Jonathan in his explanation. Rather, he knew the man would have most likely sworn at the Englishman, having become angry over the loss of the golden scepter Jonathan had stolen and Rick had destroyed, as well as the efforts he'd put out without any real payment. With another grunt, the American decided to let it go, however; Izzy had gotten them there and even saved them; Rick had asked for nothing more.

Patting his pockets, wishing silently for a good nip of something or other to take the increasing chill off, Jonathan smiled weakly at his sister, who returned his smile cheerfully. He opened his mouth to speak, having just realized, with horror, that he'd been almost a week without any form of liquor. However, the bumping and grinding of the craft supposedly landing jolted everyone, sending Jonathan crashing against the severely injured Rick, both men hurting from the harsh encounter.

"What the hell! Izzy, you could try _landing_ the damn thing!" Rick pushed up to his feet and limped towards the deckhouse, only to be thrown once more on top of his brother-in-law as the aerial ship settled into the shifting desert sands. He didn't get time to complain further before Izzy was bearing down on them.

"Well, everyone out. This is the last stop before Cairo. And this ship goes to Cairo without passengers or cargo." He noticed Jonathan secreting, or attempting to secret, the huge jewel in a ragged jacket and shot a hand out to stop him. "All except that there sparkler. I need it to repair this ship and get supplies."

Jonathan pulled himself stiff in indignation, putting on his frostiest tone of protestation. "I say! Unhand me this instant. This diamond is mine, fair and square; I'll have you know. Or have you forgotten that it was I who hung upside down in the middle of a raging tornado to retrieve it?" He was going to say more, of course, but was interrupted by a snort.

"And if it weren't for me and this here trawler, you'd be sucked up in that tornado right now. A fat lot of good that there diamond would have done you then. So, I get half the diamond for transport and rescue services, and the other half for the gold stick you stole from me." Izzy had grossly upped what he'd considered his share, as he felt he'd been thoroughly mistreated by Jonathan on the latter half of this particular escapade.

Incensed, Jonathan started to argue but felt himself pushed overboard by a strong, rough hand. "What the devil!" The diamond had tumbled from his arms to the deck, still half-wrapped in his battered jacket.

Rick tossed Alex over, followed by helping his wife to disembark. The adventurer threw a glare at Izzy but climbed painfully over the rail without further word. As soon as the party was on the ground, Izzy hurriedly threw supplies over as well, the air vessel slowly rising and gliding towards Cairo, low in the air but in the air none-the-less.

"Now look what you've done, O'Connell! He has my diamond!" Jonathan rose and started ineffectually dusting the sand from his torn, dirty clothing. He glared after the departing vehicle. "And in case you haven't notice, dear boy, we are trapped in this God-forsaken desert without transport."

Alex gave a huge yawn and stood. He tugged his uncle's shirtsleeve, drawing Jonathan's gaze, and pointed one very tanned hand towards a series of deserted looking tents. "Think anyone is there, Uncle Jon?"

"Well, son, let's go see," Rick's voice rumbled out.

Without so much as a by-your-leave, Jonathan was herded towards the dilapidated camp, limping and feeling sorely tried as he hefted one of the heavy packs Izzy had thrown them. He wasn't best pleased with Rick's return to enthusiasm, nor with the fact that the man didn't once criticize their former host for his desertion. In fact, all Jonathan could think about was that this was perhaps far worse than ten years ago when they'd been stuck deep in the desert after fighting another immortal curse.

Life was very harsh for the poor forty-year-old treasure seeker; he was convinced of it.

  


As they finally came to the camp, which had been further away than first appeared, Jonathan was becoming more and more desperate. After all, these tents were torn and half-down... items were smashed, strewn about, and left to weather. There was no sign of animal life to speak of, unless one counted the manure strewn here and there. There were even signs of blood on one or more tent scrap. Horrid place!

The small band stopped just beside the first derelict tent. They tried to peer through the darkness, tried to see if anyone still inhabited this obvious ruin of a community. Were the bandits or raiders still here, finishing up their grisly work? Or were there perhaps survivors or even mere wanderers who had taken up residence? The night sounds of the desert were the only noises, aside from their own arrival, which could be made out in the darkened camp.

Just as Jonathan turned to complain to Rick about Izzy's heartlessness once more, a chilling yell was heard. Thundering out of nowhere, taking the small band completely off guard, was a group of horses and riders. They were dressed in black and carried cruelly curved scimitars. It was anyone's guess how the foursome had missed hearing their approach, but now they had to scramble to safety, to avoid the stinging slice of those sharp blades. Another yell rent the air as more black-robed figures, these on foot, emerged from the ruins brandishing weapons. There was no telling any individuals apart, as all had their lower faces covered with the traditional Medjai wraps.

"Wait a moment... aren't the Medjai our allies?" Jonathan gulped, backing into his nephew, Alex. "Or has Ardeth turned on us as well?" No reply came to his desperate query.

The adults had no choice but to form a tight band around young Alex. Not a one of them had a weapon, but that didn't prevent them from bravely standing their ground as they were surrounded... after some being stopped in their scramble for safety naturally. Jonathan didn't want to be bravely standing there, but as he had no choice in the matter, he felt it best to at least appear brave in the face of this final insulting danger.

As riders circled the band of warriors on the ground, that band in turn circled the four strangers. It was a sight to behold, if one weren't in the middle of the bloody mess. But something was odd about this company, and it took Jonathan a bit longer than the others to figure out just what was so odd. The inner circle, the one on foot, was facing outwards, towards the horse-bound attackers. They were actually defending the injured foursome. How amazing was that?

Jonathan, fully thankful for this unexpected turn of the tide, didn't waste any time in further pondering. Instead, he let his false bravado overcome him momentarily and stepped forward, between two robed figures, and yelled right back at the horsemen. He was joined, satisfactorily enough, by the other figures on foot. Rick and Evelyn even added their voices as Alex painfully bent to retrieve a few rocks in case he needed to throw them.

With horses screaming, the riders suddenly pulled back, some rearing. A long moment, with now still riders and footmen staring intently at one another, passed, weaning Jonathan of his temporary bravado. He was more than ready to slink back to Rick's side, and was even shuffling one foot backwards, when the riders turned their mounts and rode into the darkness. The relief and surprise were so sudden that Jonathan felt he might wet himself, if he'd had any liquids in him to release, which he fortunately did not. It would have been most embarrassing, and even more uncomfortable, if he had.

The figure beside the Englishman turned and reached out an empty palm, voice calming, slow, and melodic as it spoke in the flowing language of the desert people.

"Sorry, old chap, I haven't a clue what you're saying." Jonathan offered his hand, however, gripping the offered limb in an enthusiastic shake of greeting. At a gasping noise from several robed figures, the man realized he'd done something wrong. He dropped the hand as if burnt and held both palms up and out, his manner placating. "Uh... no harm meant!" He moved to step back, but was prevented by a sudden scimitar pressed to his side and an indistinguishable murmur from the wielder.

Rick stiffened, but Evelyn placed a hand briefly on her husband's arm then stepped forward with a smile. "Hello. My name is Evelyn O'Connell." She then proceeded to translate her words into Egyptian, hoping to cross the language barrier and soothe any ruffled feelings. She was protective of her brother, after all.

With a strong, throaty voice, the black-robed, black-turbaned figure responded to Evy's words in accented English. "I know the tongue of your fathers. I am called Sahara Bay."

The name struck Jonathan as familiar and odd simultaneously, and rather sooner than one might expect he figured out at least half of the reason why. "I say," he directed the words to Evy, however, not the figure with the melodious voice... a woman's voice, he'd swear on his own head. "Is our benefactress related to Ardeth Bay, perchance?" A murmur circulated among the robed figures and Jonathan wondered if he'd made a mistake mentioning the Medjai Chieftain.

Evy prepared to ask, but was prevented by a harsh question from one of the other figures. He seemed belligerent at best. "And what know you of our chief..." but the man never finished his question. His wavering, elderly voice cut off at a simple gesture from the woman in front of Jonathan.

"Ardeth Bay is a friend of ours. We've just helped him get rid of the Scorpion King." Limping forward, Rick planted himself firmly beside his brother-in-law, much to Jonathan's relief. The man was larger and more athletic than he was; that alone might intimidate these desert people. Of course, it helped that he had a pair of revolvers in his chest holsters to back him up, they need not know the guns were empty.

"And have you proof of your words, traveler?"

Jonathan felt himself starting to drown in those beautiful tones. He wanted her to speak again. Without thinking, as per his normal habit in fact, the treasure seeker gave the woman a foolish looking grin. "Name's Jonathan Carnahan. This is Rick O'Connell, his wife Edith... my sister... and their son, Alex. We helped with a spot of trouble about nine years ago as well. Perhaps he mentioned us?"

Another murmur went around the robed figures, but Sahara seemed not to be offended... or she didn't show it. Instead, she turned and spoke in her native language to her people. After long moments, the woman again turned and offered a hand, palm open. "Come friends of Ardeth Bay. You will rest tonight. Tomorrow we will hear your tale." She turned once more, dropping her hand before anyone could respond to her gesture, and walked into the largest tent in the encampment.

An elderly man gestured towards that same tent and growled out, "Go inside." He made a gesture towards Jonathan then back towards the tent. Apparently, these Medjai assumed Jonathan was the leader of the foursome, a thought most anyone else would have found extremely laughable.

The idea sunk in. With a less cheery smile, trying on some false bravado once more, the man nodded and slid a hand to his nephew's shoulder. "Well, thank you very much, gentlemen." Evy smiled, taking Rick by the hand, and followed her brother through the warriors and into the indicated tent. Jonathan was thankful to be out of the hostile glares of the Bedouins outside. He let out a relieved _whoosh_.

Inside, the tent was obviously the abode of someone of great importance. Despite having been raided and vandalized in the recent past, the remains of the once fine rugs and jars suggested an opulence expected of a chief or king. In scandalized horror, Jonathan noted that cushions, ripped but still displaying rich embroidery, lined the ground and a tattered fine cloth curtain dangled before a slightly raised sleeping dais of once delicate linens and soft pillows. It was evident immediately that this was no mere guestroom; it was Ardeth Bay's personal home and the destruction was a complete insult, the idea that anyone would come in and destroy these rich possessions; Jonathan nearly wept at the loss.

Near the curtain, Sahara Bay was removing her turban and outer robes. Underneath was the more traditional veil, as well as the long robes of thinner material normally worn by desert women. She was graceful with a slim body, except the rounded abdomen of a woman in mid-pregnancy. Dark curls hung to her waist, covered by the traditional headdress of the desert people. Her face might be covered, except those very dark eyes, but something about her spoke of beauty and delicacy. Turning towards her guests, she held out a bowl of figs and dates. "Sit my guests. Rest and refresh yourselves." She moved slowly to Jonathan's side and offered the bowl.

He took it and thanked her in surprise. As he watched, the young woman moved to retrieve water and bandaging materials. Evy's hiss alerted him to pass along the fruits; he took a handful and complied. As Jonathan watched, entranced by their hostess, he wondered how Ardeth Bay could leave such a woman by herself in what was obviously a dangerous camp. He certainly wouldn't have. The thought was so foreign to the playboy that he had to straighten and blink several times, trying to figure out what exactly had made him feel any one woman was worth getting attached to permanently.

Sahara moved to his side and knelt on the ground at his feet, startling the Englishman further. She placed a bowl of water next to her and turned liquid brown eyes up to Jonathan. "I would tend your injuries, Jonathan Carnahan." He jumped back at her words, an image of Ardeth beheading him like an Anubis Warrior suddenly entering his mind, but he could not form a protest fast enough and her gentle hands started removing his torn, dirty shirt.

Rick's troubled rumble broke through Jonathan's mounting confusion. "What happened, Ms. Bay? Who were those men on horses? They were young... but I doubt they fought with the other Medjai against the Scorpion King's soldiers."

She stopped undressing Jonathan, much to his mixed relief and disappointment, turning to Rick. "They were once Medjai. Ibrahim Bay is the man they call Chief. He is the son of the man who was Chief before Ardeth Bay and believes he should be Chief now. The brother of Ardeth's father did not agree and raised Ardeth to be Chief in his stead. Ibrahim has never forgiven his father for this, as he has never forgiven Ardeth." Sahara shifted slightly and turned back to Jonathan, trying once more to ease his tattered garments off of wounded limbs.

"Why is your name Sahara? That's the desert... I didn't think the Bedouin used it as a people name."

The woman turned once more, bowing her head slightly to Alex in acknowledgement of his question. Jonathan took the opportunity to remove his shirt; well, if the woman wished to tend his hard won injuries, who was he to refuse her hospitality. He secretly hoped Ardeth would agree with this philosophy.

Her voice was strong. "My father let the son of his brother choose the name I was to be called. He chose Sahara. They asked him to choose another, but he would not. As we grew, he would say that I was named by him because I belong to him." She paused and her voice grew softer, sadder. "And for a long time, I believed him." Suddenly, with a shake of her head, she turned and started tending Jonathan, her hands as gentle as the rest of her demeanor.

Alex passed the fruit to his father, nibbling a date. He ignored the fact that both women were tending the injured men, instead standing and moving over to his uncle's side to watch the woman in curiosity. "You said the other man's name is Ibrahim Bay? Is he Ardeth's brother then?"

Hands moving quickly, Sahara used the water to loosen the dried blood across Jonathan's abdomen. She seemed unlikely to answer Alex's question at all. Finally, she turned her deep brown eyes up to the boy and shook her head once. "They are not the sons of the same father, though both were raised by the same man. Their fathers are brothers. Ardeth was raised by the father of Ibrahim." She let her eyes scan over the boy quickly, checking for injuries, before turning her attention back to Jonathan's abdomen. "If you wish, Alex O'Connell, I desire to hear of your battle with the Scorpion King. You are the bravest of people to face him."

Pride swelled in Jonathan, though the words had been aimed at his nephew. He wanted to start bragging about his dreadful fight with the hordes of undead... or at least with the immortal damned. However, upon looking down into those soulful eyes, the treasure seeker who often lied found himself revealing the truth instead. "Actually, Rick fought the Scorpion King as well as old Imohtep. We pretty much stayed out of the fight, really."

Three very surprised sets of eyes turned on the oldest person in the tent, mouths dropping open in shock. Jonathan looked around and flushed, quickly averting his eyes to the tattered drapes, as if transfixed by their former beauty. His sister frowned slowly, glancing at Sahara then at her brother with increase worry. His words were not what she was used to hearing when he had the opportunity to build himself into a hero. True, she'd often hoped he would find a woman who would have just such an effect on him, but Ardeth Bay's wife was not the woman she'd envisioned.

"Actually, we were saving Mum," Alex jumped in. "Uncle Jon and I... we had to bring her back from the dead. Uncle Jon fought while I did the ritual. It was amazing." With the resilience of all children, the boy had let go of the fear and horror of that time, instead glorifying Jonathan's fight with Meela. "And Uncle Jon had the Scepter-Spear, too, and would have made the shot if Imohtep hadn't caught it first."

Jonathan was grateful to his nephew for the words, but didn't think he'd done anything more than what was required at that time. He'd been worried about Evy mainly, and angry with the Egyptian woman for hurting his sister and having his nephew kidnapped. It wasn't so much bravery or even sound tactics... it was instinct that had made him fight Meela. Throwing the spear, well that was because he had it and Rick was insisting he do something intelligent with it. That was just plain reasonableness, not heroics. Sahara seemed duly impressed, however, and her eyes shining up at him with that deep, intense look made Jonathan sit a bit taller, despite the pain.

Trying again for an answer, Rick rumbled, "So, who were those guys on the horses? You never really did explain much."

With a sigh, the woman paused, one hand resting lightly on Jonathan's stomach, the other on his thigh. "They are the men who follow Ibrahim Bay. When the Medjai chose to fight the Warriors of Anubis, Ibrahim and his people chose to attack our homes. Only the old, the ill, the women, and the young children were here... and we almost were unable to defend ourselves. Your arrival was a fortuitous event, my guests, for it came with their second attempt. It is your appearance at our side that drove them away. They will return."

"And here I thought _you_ guys were protecting _us_." Rick sounded amused. He shifted into a more comfortable position, Evy almost done bathing and tending his many injuries. Apparently, the adventurer had chosen to load his two pistols rather than eat, the supply bags coming in handy.

"We were. Our attackers did not know this. When Jonathan Carnahan joined us, it was a surprise for them. We are grateful for your assistance." Sahara's voice indicated a smile under her veil. "You will not be turned away, my guests. Our remaining families may be bitter, but they will not hurt friends of Ardeth Bay. They will wish the tale of your battles, as well as what has happened to the rest of the Medjai..."

She was interrupted by the sound of horses entering the encampment. Sahara's eyes opened wider and she shook her head once. "No!" There was defiance in her voice. "They will not succeed." The woman stood and grabbed the discarded robes and turban, pulling them on quickly and apparently relying on the darkness of the desert night to cover any insufficiencies of dress. She hurried from the tent, not unaware of being followed by three of her guests... Alex was ordered to stay behind.

Continued in Chapter Two: When Is A Chief Not A Chief?


	2. When Is a Chief Not a Chief?

Title: When Is A Chief Not A Chief?

Series: Revenge of the Mummy: 02 / ?

Setting: Egypt 1930's

Author's Note: The books and movies differ on a few points, most notably concerning whose gunshot saved Ardeth Bay from the warrior in the jungle in the sequel. Thus, for reference to that scene, I have chosen to go with the movie (Jonathan), rather than the book (Evy).

Second Note: In some _Arabic_ communities, especially before World War II, if a woman was violated, or lost her virginity before marriage, it was considered offensive and shameful for the entire family, including cousins. Thus, these women were often put to death, as per their customs and beliefs. This practice is reflected in this story, and the author asks you to not judge the custom, but to accept it as a part of a different society in a different era. Thank you.

* * *

Upon leaving the tent, Jonathan became immediately aware of a subtle change in atmosphere. Subtlety never being one of his strong suits, he couldn't quite pinpoint what it was that felt different. Like before, the encampment was in tatters and several robed figures on foot confronted many more on horseback. Even the dark-robed figure of Sahara Bay, Medjai wrap across her face disguising her veil, seemed to be the same. Somehow, though, there was a definite change in... well something.

The Englishman quickly followed the woman, keeping a wary eye on the riders and their mounts. He didn't want to leave Sahara unprotected... a determined thought, which would have surprised everyone, including himself, at any other time. He also didn't want to come up on the wrong end of those scimitars, though. Thus, it was several long minutes before he realized that no one was acting in the least ways threatening to anyone else. It was only when the leader of the battle-weary Medjai slid from his stallion that it became wholly evident to Jonathan just why everyone else seemed on such friendly terms.

Ardeth Bay, dark-hair loose, features set against the pain of untended wounds, had shock in his deep brown eyes. He looked quickly around the ruins of his home, one injured hand settling firmly on the hilt of his scimitar. When his eyes came to rest on the four figures coming from his own tent, one dressed in the robes of a Chief-in-Training, the man shook his head and continued to watch their progress with a grim look.

He seemed to stare at Jonathan the longest, making the man want to squirm and grin sheepishly. It was with a flash of panic that the forty-year-old wondered if the younger man somehow knew that Sahara had tended his nude torso. A light flush suffused his lean features and he couldn't seem to bring his eyes to meet Ardeth's for any length of time.

"Ardeth Bay, come inside and rest." Sahara's melodious voice called out in accented English, and all knew that she was making an effort for the benefit of the visitors. "You have much to hear, My Chieftain."

With a gesture of dismissal towards his riders, only one tenth of the vast returning force, and those on foot who had crowded around, the warrior moved towards his home. Ardeth nodded without word to the Englishman and his party and slipped in to the tent; he was apparently relieved when he noted Alex sitting there, watching the opening anxiously.

Jonathan and the others turned and made their way after the dark-robed warrior. When they got inside, Ardeth finally nodded to Sahara, who had once more slipped out of her borrowed robes, exposing the more traditional woman's garb. The group watched as the Medjai Chief sank to the ground. "My friends, you did not return in the air vehicle?" Sahara knelt to start tending his wounds, and he allowed her, stripping to the waist for her.

"We couldn't," Jonathan replied simply. "Too much weight after that crash. Izzy landed us here and flew on to Cairo for repairs." He sank onto a torn pillow, unable to remove his eyes from the graceful movements of the pretty Bedouin woman, despite the fact that he might be noticed and endangered by his confusing infatuation.

Surprised, Ardeth did notice the man's riveted eyes on Sahara. He looked down at her, let his eyes slip back to Jonathan then moved them back to the woman at his side. Frowning slightly, the man studied her, trying to see what had Jonathan so... entranced. All he saw at first was the woman he'd grown up with: delicate hands, soothing voice, hypnotic eyes... suddenly Ardeth realized something. Even with the covering veil, Sahara was beautiful... and her pregnancy seemed only to add to her inner glow of health and serenity. The man turned his head to stare directly at Jonathan, frowning further, not liking the idea that the Englishman was that attracted to the Egyptian woman.

For his part, however, Jonathan was momentarily unaware of Ardeth's sudden mood shift. He continued to watch Sahara's movements, taking in each gesture, truly entranced by this gentle, remarkable woman. Unfortunately, the atmosphere threatened to get unpleasant.

Rick thankfully interrupted. "Your cousin Ibrahim's been trying to overthrow you while you've been out playing with immortals, Ardeth. Something we can help you with?" The adventurer sat on the edge of Ardeth's bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped between them.

Ardeth turned, eyes reluctantly withdrawing from Jonathan and raking the tent before settling on his old friend. "It is not something you can help fix, O'Connell. I have long expected Ibrahim to do such a thing." His voice was as tired as he appeared. Dealing with an uprising by his cousin before recovering from the last battle seemed the last thing the Chief wanted to do, but he must protect his people.

"I notice he didn't help out with Anubis' Warriors." Rick nodded having figured he wouldn't be permitted to join this fight... at least not that easily. "Great time to call in sick to work."

"Ibrahim and his followers do not believe in the history we are here to defend against. They," Ardeth smiled slightly, "do not believe in ancient curses, my friend."

A snort indicated that Rick well remembered the time when he, too, didn't believe.

Evy jumped into the conversation, moving to finish the bandaging on Jonathan that had been started in Ardeth's absence. "He'll be back, Ardeth."

Her movement had finally succeeded in drawing her brother's attention from the Egyptian woman across the tent. Jonathan had no idea, really, what the conversation was about. He knew it was something intense, but his entire attention had been focused on Sahara. Therefore, in order to appear as if he'd been interested in the discussion and not the pretty Egyptian, he nodded with a grim look, making a noncommittal sound in his throat. It seemed appropriate, as no one stared at him oddly.

Standing, giving an absent smile of gratitude to Sahara for her ministrations even as he prevented her from finishing them, the dark-haired warrior moved to look out the tent opening. He studied the horizon, the other tents, and the people moving about their business. "Yes. And the Chief of the Ten Tribes will support him in this."

"What!"

Rick and Jonathan had joined their voices to Evy's in shock and protest, or rather downright confusion on the part of the Englishman.

Ardeth sighed. He turned to his friends, his eyes as serious as his words. "Ibrahim has long contended that I am not able to defend my people, that I have spent my life chasing legends. He is the son of the chief before me, and as such has a valid claim to lead. Ibrahim will have also attacked the other encampments, proving that we should have left warriors behind, as he suggested, instead of bringing all of them to fight the Warriors of Anubis. The other tribes will support his claim when they see what has happened in our absence."

Sahara's hand on his wrist made him turn his attention to her. "Ardeth, you will not be safe while he is Chief." Her voice showed real fear, a sound Ardeth hadn't heard since the day she had returned from Ibrahim's camp, three months ago. Anger at the thought still threatened to overcome his good sense. If it had not been for the recent extended absence he'd been forced to take, things certainly would have been different concerning what his cousin had done to Sahara. Naturally, the others were not aware of the man's feelings, except for the intense frown on his face... and that was a fairly normal expression for the Medjai as far as Jonathan was concerned.

"I will have to live with the results. You are who will need protecting, Sahara."

The woman frowned behind her veil; they could see it in her eyes. She lowered her head and reached to finish bandaging the deep gash across Ardeth's arm. Silence reigned as she quickly worked, but it was broken just as quickly when she was done. "Then we will leave, Ardeth. They will ask a year to test Ibrahim in the duties of Chief. We will return when that year is ended."

Evy opened her mouth as if to protest, but Rick stayed her with a slight shake of his blond head. Jonathan, however, felt only elation that the woman would leave this godforsaken desert. His normally quick mind worked feverishly to come up with a way of convincing Sahara... and of course Ardeth... to journey with them back to England. Usually he used his wits to aid him in his less-than-honest dealings, but this seemed suddenly more important than any con he'd pulled in the past.

The forty-year-old didn't seem aware, therefore, of how the suggestion to leave grated on Ardeth Bay. To leave his people, his home, to the man who would so callously destroy everything was nothing short of physical torment for the Chief, and his words relayed that as much as his tone. "I cannot ask you to leave your home, Sahara." The man tested the bandage absently. Jonathan wanted to protest such a high-handed declaration.

Sahara took Ardeth's arm in a firm grip, breaking all known codes of public behavior for the desert people, shocking the four witnesses to this display. "No! Do not ask me to stay here under his control!" Even more surprising to the watchers, the woman dropped to her knees and took the man's injured hands. "Please, Ardeth, I beg of you. I may have gone to his camp willingly, but do not punish my folly in this way. He will finish what he started; he will kill us both. I would rather die by your hand if I must die." Her entire body shook in fear, tears streaming from those lovely eyes, as she pleaded with him.

Heart going out to her, Jonathan began to rise from the pillow he was seated on. He began to reach a hand out, but felt a quick slap on the wrist. The nerve! His eyes widened in surprise, drawing his attention away and to his sister, who was frowning as she watched the scene unfolding. It was something none of them should see, but none of them wanted to be the one to interrupt it, either. It was truly an awkward situation, and Jonathan reluctantly let it continue to play out.

Ardeth dropped to his own knees and encircled the veiled woman with his arms. "Quiet, Sahara, I will not let him hurt you again." His voice rang with as much emotion, anger and pain, as hers had. "We will leave. We will travel for a year and return when the testing is done." The warrior gently rocked the weeping woman; both seemed to have forgotten the presence of the four onlookers completely, both unaware that they had continued speaking in English the entire time.

It was an embarrassing scene, even if it was touching. Evy finally pulled her eyes away, wrapping an arm around her husband and tapping her son to interrupt his own staring. Jonathan, on the other hand, didn't seem to have the good sense to pretend he wasn't there. Instead, he cleared his throat and finally asked "I say, what do you mean she has to die?" His voice was indignant, as was his suddenly stiffened stance.

A frown crossed Ardeth's face and he pulled away from Sahara. Turning to his friends, letting the woman move off out of their direct gaze, he shook his head. "Some things, Jonathan, outsiders cannot understand. Your ways are not our ways." He turned from the glaring Englishman and swiftly left the tent.

  


It was many tense minutes later when Ardeth slipped back into the tent. He seemed to note the discontent and anger in Jonathan, the withdrawal of Sahara, and the general air of unease in his remaining guests. After the trials he had been through, Ardeth certainly didn't want to put up with this kind of atmosphere at home. Making a quick decision, he moved to stand near Jonathan, touching his arm lightly.

"Jonathan, Sahara will not die."

The Englishman turned, still frowning, but definitely alert. He wanted this explanation and would not interrupt now, though every fiber of his being seemed to scream at him to challenge Ardeth for the right to protect the woman. After all, it seemed the Chieftain wasn't doing a very good job, was he?

Ardeth continued, unaware of the direction his guest's thoughts had turned, "Our people value the honor of a woman as much as that of a man. Sahara," he glanced at the corner where she sat then back at Jonathan, "went to Ibrahim's camp to bring peace and unity. He... dishonored that trust. It is my duty to give her the honor of death if she is ruined in life." Sahara's quiet sob wrenched his heart, but he relentlessly continued. "However, Ibrahim is the one who defiled her, the one who betrayed us, Jonathan; she will not die for a sin _she_ did not commit."

Understanding was often slow for the Englishman, but this time it seemed to hit quickly. In fact, it came just as quickly as it did to the other three listeners. As Jonathan stepped back, horror in his eyes, Evy turned towards Sahara and Rick growled low. Alex didn't stay silent, not fully understanding everything said.

"Ardeth? Did Ibrahim... hurt her?" His voice was worried and it was apparent he liked the gentle Egyptian woman.

The Medjai knelt painfully by Alex. He had never been one to mince words, even to a child, and he would not begin now. Let his parents explain the horrors of men; the boy had already seen the horrors of immortals. "Yes. He raped her, Alex." The words were harsh and filled with the rage of three months futile waiting for the vengence he had not yet had. Ardeth again found himself fighting the desire to ride out and confront his cousin for what had occurred.

"That bastard!" Jonathan's epitaph summed up everyone's feelings in two words.

A steely hand on the older man's arm prevented him from doing anything rash. As he jumped and shot a quick glare at Ardeth, the younger warrior shook his head. "You can do nothing to him, Jonathan. Try to understand. He is beyond your reach."

"How can you let that beast become Chief, Ardeth?" There was confusion and anger in the Englishman's voice. "He bloody well doesn't deserve it after all he's done."

Letting go of his arm, Ardeth shook his head sadly at his friend. "It is our way. Not the way of Egypt, but the way of the Medjai. We must leave before he returns. Come..."

The sound of a horse neighing and stamping alerted them that it was already too late. Ibrahim and his raiding party had returned once more. It was as if a signal had sounded inside the tent. All six occupants moved as one towards the opening, silence weighing heavily in the chill night air.

Continued in Chapter Three: ---when written---


End file.
